The Little Things
by flawedesires
Summary: A collection of oneshots, memories, and perhaps futures involving the whole gang.
1. The Makings of Grace

**Hey! I know, I should be writing my other stories right now, but this was just too irresistible to not write :)**

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><p><strong>ThaliaThe Makings of Grace**

I stood in the shadows of a sewage-reeking alley, hungrily staring at the cart of fruit standing not ten feet away from me. I know, straight out of a Disney movie; the starving child plots to steal a shiny apple and gets chased through the city by magically-appearing guards. Yawn.

But this was real. Those apples were real. And my money? Was not.

Just my luck, the vendor was nowhere in sigh. No one was watching. I could easily grab one and run and no one would notice. Then I would have something to add to my pathetic store of stolen French fries and crackers.

So I did. I darted forward, and had my dirty fingers around the smooth surface of an apple—the smell had my mouth watering—when my collar constricted around my throat. It took me a moment to realize someone had grabbed the back of my shirt. I couldn't run without choking myself. I couldn't kick until I knew where my captor was.

The world spun. Suddenly I was face-to-face with a cruel-eyed man. The vendor. I'd wasted too much time admiring the fruit and not taking it. I could've been a block away by the time he got here. Stupid! I scolded myself.

"Got money for that?" the vendor demanded. I looked at him for a moment. Bushy eyebrows, beady eyes, thin mouth. All in all a creepy sort of face. Not the kind I'd want two inches from mine, anyway. So my genius response was to kick him where it hurts and make a beeline for the alleys, but his grip held fast.

"Brat," he hissed in my ear, his voice breaking. Somehow, he managed to begin pulling me to the door of the grocery store behind us. "I'm calling the police. Let's see how they deal with little thieves, huh?"

"No!" I yelled hoarsely. The police would only ship me back to my mom. No _way_ I was going back to her. Not after what she did… So I kicked. I punched. I flailed. But the vendor was surprisingly strong for a guy who just got hit in the nuts by a kid.

"You're—not—getting—away," he told me, gritting his teeth. I dug my heels in the sidewalk, but him dragging me only left a streak of burnt rubber in the ground.

"Hey!" A new voice yelled at us from what felt like far away. I heard grunts, felt the hands holding me twist, then I was tumbling to the ground. On pure instinct I jumped back up, whirling to find the vendor, a 30-plus man, cinched in the headlock of a tall, sandy-haired teenage boy. I thought fast. I grabbed a vase from the cart and smashed it over his head. He crumpled to the ground in a heap.

I turned, a little suspicious, to the boy. He was standing there calmly, munching from the very apple I intended to eat. He tossed me one. "Got to be more careful," he explained. "These kind don't take to kids like us." He gave the vendor a well-placed kick for good measure.

I eyed him. "Us?"

"Strays," he clarified.

I studied his blue eyes. I saw no trace of lying. So, he was a runaway too. He looked tired, like he'd been on the streets for a while now. I wondered briefly what he was running from. Abuse? No, he looked fine. Judging from the look on his face, it was nothing good. I left it alone, figuring he'd tell me if he wanted to. I didn't need his life story, anyway.

"Do you have any partners in crime?" I asked, biting into the apple. My eyes almost rolled back in delight. Suddenly I felt like crying. I hadn't tasted anything so delicious in weeks.

The boy shook his head. "Nope. I work alone."

I shrugged. "Do you want to keep it that way?" He smiled. It was a nice one, but I could tell it was reserved—he didn't smile much. I guess he didn't have a lot to smile about. That was okay. Neither did I.

"Why'd you help me?" I asked, suddenly.

He thought about it. "You're like me," he said finally. "Running. You don't want to go home, no matter what."

I raised an eyebrow. He could read me. Most people couldn't read me. I couldn't help feeling a little impressed. First he saves me, then he reads my mind? Two for two.

"Why?" he wondered.

I felt strange, having this deep conversation with a stranger. "Not a lot of pleasant things waiting for me there," I said. He nodded, like he understood.

"I'm Thalia," I said, offering a hand. This boy seemed safe enough to trust. For now. He didn't look like the kind to backstab.

He shook my hand. His fingers had calluses. So did mine. I tilted my head. Huh. Seems like this boy and I had some things in common. Interesting.

"Who are you?" I asked, prodding him.

He put a hand to his chest, faking pain, then grinned. I did too. That was two smiles in a few minutes. Good work, Thalia.

"Luke. I'm Luke."

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><p><strong>Not my best work, I'm aware. But, the first of many. The next chapter will be up hopefully by tomorrow :)<strong>

**~ Mia ~**


	2. Finders Keepers

**Grover/Finders Keepers**

I was already trembling when I stepped inside the diner.

Honestly, on the surface, there was nothing wrong with it. It was warm from the all the people packed in, waitresses carried steaming plates of food, and the smell of apple pie was making my mouth water (what satyr in his right mind would refuse pie?).

But I was almost sure I could see the shady deals made under the tables, the ice behind the waitresses' smiles. And there was definitely another smell under the apple pie.

I took another tentative sniff. The scent was strong. I sensed a strange amount of the usual half-blood emotions: anger, frustration, determination. There was more than one here.

That only made me more nervous.

"Only her, Grover," Chiron had told me, his eyes more serious than I'd ever seen them. "Only her."

Mr. D had made a noise of disapproval. "Any others and there'll be more conflict than we need," he'd said, more to himself than me.

I'd set out thinking this would be easy. Keeper, then searcher. That's how it works. If I could just find a few half-bloods and bring them back in one piece, I could be the one to succeed. Just find the daughter of Zeus and turn her over to Chiron. Without dying. Find Thalia Grace.

But it'd been harder than I'd thought. Thalia's scent was contaminated with too many smells for me to track her. It was days before I found her hiding place, and even then she'd already moved on.

If I was lucky, she'd be there. I gnawed my lip. Too bad I wasn't so lucky.

Rushed, I scanned the crowd of heads. To my disappointment, none of them were children, except for a few toddlers. She must've left, I thought to myself. I was getting ready to back out, partly because she wasn't there, mostly because the head waitress was staring at me strangely, when my last sweep caught on a pair of bright, electric blue eyes. And they were watching me.

The owner, a girl, had a head of spiky black hair and the hawkish face of a daughter of Zeus. Her expression was cold. She was scooted so low it was a wonder I'd gotten a glimpse of her at all. She sat in a booth in the back with two other heads, both blonde. The first, a tall boy, from the look of him, wasn't touching anything on their table. He stared out the window. The second, a little girl, judging by her curly blonde locks, was eating as if she'd never see food again.

I took a step toward them. I just wanted to see them better. But the girl tensed. In the fraction of a second it took for her body to go rigid, the boy's head whipped around. He locked eyes with me. I froze. The little girl stopped eating.

They watched me intently, the way prey watches another animal, waiting for an attack. I hoped they knew I wasn't going to attack. They were stronger than I was. It wouldn't be hard to leave me in a ditch. I chewed on my fingernail.

I guess that downplayed my credibility as a suspicious figure, because when I took another step towards them, they didn't stab me, though the boy's hand was dangerously close to his table knife.

As I got closer, I confirmed that I had the right group. I was almost sure the blue-eyed girl was Thalia Grace. Her face was proof enough. And the way her hand inched towards the silver chain on her wrist, it was a magical weapon. Definitely a demigod.

The tall boy was more sandy-haired than blonde up close, with blue eyes, but a softer color than Thalia's. They had a strange mischievous glint to them, and they were guarded. His expression was weary.

The last one, the little girl, couldn't have been more than eight years old. Still, she studied me with wide, intelligent gray eyes, with an air so critical she hardly seemed her age.

She turned to the others. "Not a monster," she announced in a high, clear soprano.

The boy glared at her, as if to say, _Quiet!_ But the other girl nodded slowly, looking me up and down. She scooted aside, then pointed to the spot. "Sit." I sat.

"Luke," she said without looking away. "She's right."

Luke made a _pshh_ sound. "As always," he muttered. But his sideways glance towards the small girl made it clear he was kidding.

The girl beamed, first at him, then at me. "You're a satyr," she informed me, as if this was news.

I frowned. I tried to disguise myself well. I had my rasta cap jammed on my head and my jeans hiding my fur, plus big sneakers on to hide my cloven hooves. "How did you know?" I asked. She pointed a small, thin finger at my leg, where fur protruded from the crack between my jeans hem and my sneakers. I blinked at her in amazement. No one else saw that.

"I'm Annabeth," she said brightly, showing me her little white teeth. She pointed at Luke. "That's Luke." Then at the girl. "And that's Thalia."

Thalia. So it was true. I looked at her. She looked back without blinking, her face expressionless. I didn't care. My mission was halfway complete! Searcher's license, here I come!

"You know what you are, don't you?" I asked Thalia.

She tilted her head, regarding me with a cool stare. "We've had enough encounters to figure it out," she said.

"You're not taking her," Luke told me coldly.

"Luke!"

"No!" Luke nearly shouted. "You're not taking any of us!" Annabeth elbowed him. He looked at her, and immediately shut up. Huh.

"I have my orders," I mumbled. Luke said nothing under Annabeth's unusually steely gaze, but glared at me, making me shrink.

Annabeth patted my hand reassuringly. "Where's he taking us?" she asked, smiling at me in that way only children can.

"Nowhere," Luke shot at her. "He's leaving." She blinked at him with her gray eyes. I guessed he'd never talked to her like that before.

"No," Thalia said. That earned her three pairs of surprised eyes. "Let's hear him out." She leaned back. The look in her eyes was…eerie. Glassy. "I want to hear dear old dad's argument."

Even Annabeth looked concerned. "Thalia…"

"Talk," she commanded me.

How could I refuse? I glanced at the other two. Luke was pursing his lips, as if this was something that happened a lot, but he couldn't stop it. Annabeth stared from Thalia, to Luke, to me. Both their expressions told me not to say anything, but there was no way I was escaping Thalia's death glare.

"Chiron sent me," I began, uneasy. "From camp." The word made both Thalia and Luke stiffen.

"Camp?" Annabeth asked. "What camp?"

"Half-Blood," I told her, but Thalia and Luke's stares shut me up. So they didn't tell her. Briefly, I wondered how they even knew about it. We've had enough encounters to figure it out, Thalia had said. More than I thought, apparently.

The two of them appeared to be having some sort of argument over the table. They stared each other down, unfazed. Annabeth sighed. "They do that a lot," she muttered, stirring her orange juice.

"It's a bad place, Annabeth," Thalia said finally.

Annabeth considered this shortly. "Why?"

Thalia glanced at Luke. She opened her mouth, but he cut in. "It's a special place. For kids like us."

"It's not bad," I said, deciding to jump in. Ultimately, wrong decision, but Annabeth's earnest expression wanted to know more, so I kept talking. "It's great. There's archery and sword fighting and canoeing and capture-the-flag and—"

"And misled half-bloods who're made to believe the gods are the greatest beings on Earth," Luke snapped. Thalia didn't disagree. Anti-god. Not something I hadn't seen before.

I tried to tell Luke he was wrong, but nothing came out. Truth was, demigods—or at least the few I knew—realized the gods weren't the perfect parents a long time ago. Most would rather have no contact at all with them, and it wasn't like the Olympians had a problem with that.

Gods couldn't exactly "settle down" as mortal parents, despite what most of their children would want. It made them too domesticated, and besides, they were gods. What business did they have with mortals? How many times had I heard Mr. D say that?

Annabeth came to my rescue. "But what if they are?" she asked, meeting Luke's fiery gaze calmly. "'Great' means 'grand.'" She looked at all of us expectantly. "'Elaborate.' Isn't that what gods are?"

I stared at her, open-mouthed. Thalia and Luke only shared another _look_.

"What will you do if I don't go with you?" Thalia said.

"Go back," I said. I looked down. "As a failure. Best case scenario, my status will be revoked." My voice shook. Failure wasn't something satyrs took well. Most of the time…it meant death. I was sure that failure as a Keeper wasn't any different. Mr. D would have my head.

"Worst case?" Luke wondered. I sensed pity.

I gulped. "You were a special order from…" I lowered my voice. "You know who." I pointed up. "I don't know what he'll do to me if I don't bring you back." That wasn't true. If I didn't bring Thalia back, chances were, once Mr. D was done with me, they'd bring me back from the dead and kill me again.

There was silence. Then, "I want to go."

All eyes went to little Annabeth. Before the others could speak, she went on, "I want to see it. We can't let…" She trailed off, looking at me.

"Grover," I supplied.

"We can't let _Grover_ get revoked," she continued. "I really don't understand why it's such a bad thing to go there." She looked at me. "Do we get to live there?"

I nodded. "You'll get your own cabin, with siblings."

Annabeth's eyes lit up. "Siblings? Like…a family?"

Thalia grimaced, like Don't get her hopes up. Luke glared at me. I guessed Annabeth had problems with her own family, if she even had one. I would bet all my aluminum cans that Luke and Thalia had the same problems.

"Yeah, like a family," I said. "Like a home."

She smiled again, then her moment of sincerity passed, replaced by a professional air only little kids can take on. "Besides, who's going to stop us if we try to leave?"

_Chiron_, I thought. Thalia and Luke evidently had the same idea, though I doubted they knew Chiron existed. They both looked skeptical.

Annabeth put her palms on the table, sensing she wasn't swaying her friends. "Seriously," she told us. Her matter-of-fact manner was too wise for a child, but with her tone and the expression on her face, it seemed like she was the adult and we were the children.

"Who _can_ stop us?"

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><p><strong>I really liked writing this chapter :) I know, Annabeth may seem a little too smart for a seven-year-old, but she is a child of Athena, you know. Brain power. <strong>

**And Luke comes off as corrupted, maybe too soon, but he was upset for years that Hermes left him alone with his, well, insane mother. This behavior is the beginnings of Kronos' host. **

**And Thalia? Well, she's Thalia.**

**Any suggestions will be considered, and greatly appreciated :) Don't worry, I have not abandoned my Argonauts story. That just takes a little more energy to write than this.**

**~ Mia ~**


	3. Liar, Liar

**Yes, I realize I should be continuing my other stories, but they're boring, and I'm on a one-shot binge :) Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>LukeLiar, Liar**

I gritted my teeth. "Just a little farther!" I called over my shoulder. Annabeth tripped over a tree root. I grabbed her hand. I heard Thalia grunt; I glanced back to see her using her shield to bat away…it. I grimaced.

It wasn't far. Just over the hill and we would be there. Still, I wasn't sure we'd make it. Thalia could barely walk on her leg. Annabeth's little legs couldn't keep up with my fast, long strides.

"Come on," I urged her. "We're close." She nodded, eyes wide. She trusted me. I didn't know if that was a good thing.

"Back!" Thalia yelled from behind us. "Get back!" I took that as my cue to just scoop Annabeth off the ground and make a beeline for the edge of the trees. I stuffed Annabeth into a hollow behind a boulder, where I used to hide.

"Stay here!" I ordered. I didn't even wait for an agreement. I just ran.

Thalia was so far behind us it took a few long moments before I finally reached her. The first thing I noticed that, though she wasn't winning, she wasn't giving up.

She jabbed the hellhound in the nose. "Heel, boy!" she shouted.

I dashed forward. "Thalia! Spear!" She smashed the hellhound's muzzle, then tossed her spear to me. I caught it, jumped on the monster's back, and drove the spearhead into the back of its neck.

I didn't want to see if there were more. "Go! Go!" I took her hand and dragged her to Annabeth's hiding place, where she'd curled up into a little ball. "Come on!"

We ran. Gods, I don't think I've run as fast ever since. We skidded just over a ridge, and stopped. There it was. A small, white house. My house.

I bit my lip. _This is a mistake,_ I chanted in my head. All my instincts wanted me to grab the girls and book it, but one look at Thalia's leg and Annabeth's hungry eyes and I couldn't.

"All right," I panted, looking at the house with dread. "I'll just sneak in and grab some food and medicine. Wait here." There was no way I was letting them near _her_.

Thalia looked concerned, even though she was the one bleeding half to death. "Luke, are you sure? You swore you'd never come back here. If she catches you—"

I snapped. "We don't have a choice!" I yelled. "They burned our nearest safe house!" I glanced at her apologetically and added, in a softer voice, "And you've got to treat that leg wound."

Annabeth looked from me to the house with wide eyes. "This is your house?" she asked in wonder.

I did my best not to scowl. Annabeth was a little kid; I couldn't expect her to understand. "It _was_ my house," I insisted. "Believe me, if it wasn't an emergency—"

"Is your mom really horrible?" For some reason Annabeth looked excited. "Can we see her?"

"No!" I yelled. She stumbled back in surprise. I froze. She was _scared_. She'd never been scared of me before. I immediately felt guilty. I was supposed to protect her, not scare her.

"I…I'm sorry," I said. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to think. "Just… wait here. I promise everything will be okay. Nothing's going to hurt you." I glanced at the house again. "I'll be back—"

A bright flash of gold lit up the darkness, blinding all three of us. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who grimaced when a man's voice rang out:

"You should not have come home."

I had never seen the man before me, not the black hair, not the blue eyes, not the winged Reeboks he sported. But I knew exactly who he was.

"Leave." My voice was tight and cold. _"Now."_

Hermes looked at me in a way that made me hate him even more—like he felt sorry for me. "Luke—"

"No!" I shouted. I backed up, shielding the girls. "Get away from us! It's not your decision whether I come home or not!"

I was breathing hard. Thalia was sitting on the floor behind me, trying to staunch her wound with Annabeth's army jacket, who was peeking around my back fearfully. Hermes didn't say anything for a long time.

Finally he sighed. "You'd better come inside." The next thing we knew, we were standing on my porch, and Hermes was ringing the bell.

My mother's familiar cry of, "Luke!" had me stiffening. I didn't move when she pulled me into one of her bone-crushing hugs, didn't try to stop her when she embraced both Thalia and Annabeth.

She smiled up at Hermes, eyes blank. "Hello!"

Hermes looked sad. He kissed my mother's head. "Hello, May. May we come in?"

"Of course, of course!" She ushered us in with surprising strength. "I have your lunch ready!"

I turned away from her, my eyes stinging. This place brought back horrible memories. I couldn't even look at her as she dragged the girls into the kitchen, preparing to force-feed them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cookies and Kool-Aid.

Hermes looked at me again sadly. Then he walked over to the kitchen. He hefted Thalia onto the table. "May," he said loudly.

That snapped my mother out of her humming. "Oh, hello!" She kissed Hermes' cheek. "Lovely to see you again!"

"Yes, May," he said meekly. He pointed to Thalia's leg. "Look."

My mother finally focused on Thalia's wound. "Oh, a boo-boo!" she exclaimed. "I have something for that…somewhere… Do you want a cookie, dear?"

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder; I jerked away and whirled to face Hermes, my father. "What do you want?" I demanded angrily.

There was that look again—pity. I hated it. I hated him.

"You needed me," he said simply, twirling his caduceus.

"Needed you?" I hissed. "Then why show yourself now? You left me with _her_." I pointed fiercely into the kitchen, where I could hear my mother babbling on about first-aid.

Hermes frowned. "Luke, do not dishonor her. Your mother did the best she could. As for me, I could not interfere with your path. The children of the gods must find their own way."

I crossed my arms. "So it was for my own good." I jutted out my chin. "Growing up on the streets, fending for myself, fighting monsters."

Hermes looked down. "You're my son," he stated quietly. "I knew you had the ability. When I was only a baby, I crawled from my cradle and set out for—"

"I'm not a god!" I threw up my hands. "Just once, you could've said something. You could've helped when—" I had to stop to take a breath before I said anything else. I couldn't let Thalia or Annabeth hear what came next. "—when she was having one of her _fits_, shaking me and saying crazy things about my fate."

He said nothing. I kept ranting.

"When I used to hide in the closet so she wouldn't find me with those…those glowing eyes. Did you even care that I was scared?" It was hard to keep my voice down, I was so angry. "Did you even know when I finally ran away?"

I checked in the kitchen to make sure no one had heard me. No one had. My mother was going on about me as a baby now, but I couldn't bare to listen. Thalia looked uncomfortable, wincing as my crazy mother bandaged her leg. Annabeth saw me looking and showed me a burned cookie. _Can we leave now?_ she mouthed, glancing fearfully at my mother.

I turned away.

Hermes was watching me with a frustrated look on his face. "Luke," he began, "I care very much, but gods must not interfere directly in mortal affairs. It is one of our Ancient Laws. Especially when your destiny…"

I perked up. "What?" I asked. "What about my destiny?"

That flustered him. He shouldn't have said that, and he knew it. I glared. He fumbled for words. "You should not have come back. It only upsets you both. However, I see that you are getting too old to be on the run without help. I'll speak with Chiron at Camp Half-Blood and ask him to send a satyr to collect you."

Satyr? Satyr! I didn't need a satyr! I wanted to scream. I needed you! Where were you?

But I didn't say that. "We're doing fine without your help," I told him coldly. I clenched my hands into fists. "Now, what were you saying about my destiny?"

He glanced left, then right, as if someone might be listening. I scoffed. Paranoid bastard. "My son," he tried, "I'm the god of travelers, the god of loads. If I know anything, I know that you must walk your own path, even though it tears my heart."

Liar. "You don't love me."

The expression on his face was so pathetic I wanted to laugh at him, even though it hurt to listen to this. "I promise I… I do love you. Go to camp. I will see that you get a quest soon. Perhaps you can defeat the Hydra, or steal the apples of Hesperides. You will get a chance to be a great hero before…"

Promises, promises. They didn't mean anything coming from him. Lies. He's the god of lying for gods' sake!

"Before what?" I demanded. "What did my mom see that made her like this? What's going to happen to me? If you love me, _tell_ me." I was pleading, and I hated it more than anything, but I needed answers.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. "I cannot."

I couldn't help it. My will crumbled. "Then you don't care!" I screamed. All talking in the kitchen ceased.

"Luke?" My mother shuffled around in the kitchen. "Is that you? Is my boy all right?"

"I'm fine," I snapped. "I have a new family." I directed that at Hermes. "I don't need either of you."

"I'm your father."

Gods, he was so despicable! Where did he come off thinking he could just jump in and act like he'd been there my whole life? Ha! "A _father_ is supposed to be around," I spat icily. "I've never even met you." I turned to the kitchen. "Thalia, Annabeth, come on! We're leaving!"

They knew when I meant business. Thalia shoved my mother off her and jumped off the table, grabbing Annabeth's arm and trailing after me. Annabeth shot a curious look at Hermes, but I pretended not to see.

"My boy, don't go!" my mother called. "I have your lunch ready!"

I pushed the girls out the door and slammed it. "Gods!" I swore. I started walking very fast down the walkway. "I can't believe him!"

Thalia ran after me. "Luke!" She grabbed my hand and whirled me around so we were nose-to-nose. "It's okay. He's a bastard." Though she was shorter than me, she managed to pull me into a hug, and force my head onto her shoulder.

"Now, what do we always say?" she asked in my ear.

I blew out a breath. "Don't trust parents," I recited.

A little hand wrapped itself around my waist. Annabeth's small head rested on my side as she hugged us. We pulled her in.

"All we've got is each other," she whispered.

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><p><strong>I know that this doesn't follow the exact lines of the script, but I think it's better this way. I tried to recreate Luke's angst as best I could. I'm actually starting to warm up to Luke's character. He really was a hero, wasn't he?<strong>

**And I know the summary says "the whole gang," and I've only done oneshots on Thalia, Grover, and Luke, but I only did that because we've gotten enough doses of Percy for now. Why not get someone else's perspective for a change? Maybe, hmm... the Stolls for next chapter? How fun would that be?**

**~ Mia ~**


	4. Special Delivery

**Connor/Special Delivery**

"CONNOR! TRAVIS!"

What would eventually become Katie Gardner's characteristic scream had my twin brother Travis cringing in his seat. I looked at him and we shrugged together. At the same time, we said, "Should've known Mom would be home before the mailman."

"It's your fault," he pointed out. "You were supposed to check the post office schedule before setting up the trap."

"It's _your_ fault!" I exclaimed. "_You_ were the one who…"

"What?" he demanded, knowing he'd caught me. I pouted. Truthfully, Travis hadn't actually had a hand in the stupid prank. "Yeah, that's right! I didn't do anything!"

"Yeah you did!"

"What, then?"

I grinned. "You…encouraged me!"

"CONNOR!"

We both flinched as we heard our mother rampaging through the house, throwing things and checking our usual hiding spots. We kept really quiet. She wouldn't find us, sitting in the dark under the stairs. We had some folding chairs and stolen board games with us, but neither of us felt like playing.

Travis poked me. "Dude, you better go out there or she'll break our TV."

I bit my lip. Between my mother's wrath and a broken TV (the only one we had), I think we both would've rather taken the TV.

We heard a crash. "CONNOR, GET OUT HERE NOW!"

"Go!" he hissed. And without waiting for an answer, he pushed open the door and kicked me through.

Scrambling to my feet, I whirled around and pulled the rope for the door, but he must've been holding it closed, because I couldn't open it. And the next thing I knew, my mother was raging down the hallway toward me.

"Ow!" I yelled as she grabbed my ear. "Mom! Ow!"

"Look what you did!" she shouted. Sure enough, Mom was covered in feathers and honey, and still looking completely menacing.

"I'm sorry!" I shouted back, trying to twist my ear out of her grip, but it was like steel.

"I can't take this!" she screamed. "Travis, you're spending the night outside!"

"What? No! And I'm Connor!"

"I don't care!"

And that's how I found myself sitting outside in the dark, with an old pillow and a threadbare blanket as my punishment. Not to mention the pole I had my ankle tied to. _At least I won't get kidnapped, _I thought sullenly, tugging on the rope tightly knotted onto me.

You might scream child abuse when you read this, but really, I can't blame my mom. Travis and I were a handful as kids; we liked trouble, and, well, trouble liked us. With Mom's menial job as a waitress in a failing restaurant and our father's stressful absence, plus Travis and me, she didn't cope well. Whenever we caused her grief, she'd give us the worst punishment she could without being a bad mother, to try to convince us to stop.

It worked. Travis and I learned a long time ago that we weren't to mess with our mother, but this time, it was pure bad luck that the practical joke meant for the strange mailman ended up on our angry mom.

I sighed. I'd get Travis back for this. He always made me take the fall.

"Hey, kid."

I looked up in surprise. "You?" I asked.

"Me," the very object of my prank said. The mailman was still wearing his work clothes: shorts, a cap, and a blue shirt with _Henry_ sewn on the nametag part. He had blue eyes and curly black hair and a face kind of like mine. He nodded at the house. "This where you live?"

"I can't tell you that," I said, crossing my arms in suspicion.

He looked amused. "Why not?"

"'Cause you're a stranger," I retorted.

He laughed. Despite my glaring, he came over and sat next to me. "I like you, kid. What's your name?"

I frowned. "Connor," I answered, guarded.

He smiled. "I'm not a serial killer, I promise. Just a mailman, trying to do my job."

"At nine o'clock at night?" I wondered.

He lifted his mailbag. "Night shift," he told me.

"Oh." The thought of working all night seemed alien to me.

Henry the mailman flicked my rope. "How come you're outside by yourself like this? Your brother do this to you?"

"How'd you know I have a brother?" I asked, mystified.

He shrugged. "A mailman notices stuff."

I let the observation slide. "No, Travis didn't do this. Well, kinda." I told him, sort of ashamed, about my prank and my mom.

He smiled at the part about him, but it disappeared when I told him my mom had put me outside. "Kelly did this?" he asked. He almost sounded mortified, but angry at the same time.

"Yeah," I admitted uncertainly.

He scowled at the house behind us. "I've really got to talk to that woman," he muttered.

"Huh? You know my mom?"

"What?" He looked at me. "Oh, yeah. We've met."

Puzzled, I watched him for a second, then hugged my pillow to my chest. I poked his mailbag. "What's in there?"

"Oh, this?" He pulled a package from inside. "Just an overnight delivery." He squinted at the label on the box. "Hey, you Connor _Stoll?_"

I blinked. "Yeah," I said. I leaned away from him a little. "Why?"

He didn't seem to notice. "This is for you," is all he said, and then he handed it to me.

I seized it. I'd never gotten mail before. I stared at the little tag. It had my name, and my address. The return address was _600__th__ Floor, Empire State Building, New York, NY._ There wasn't a name. I frowned. Why would I be getting I package from New York?

Suddenly I held it at arms' length. Knowing Travis, it was probably some kind of joke from him. I had no doubt there would be a confetti cannon or something in there to get me…most likely revenge for the spaghetti-and-meatball incident.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Henry the mailman asked.

"I guess," I said reluctantly. Still holding it far away from me, I ripped off the tape. Slowly, so slowly I was sure whatever Travis had rigged inside wouldn't explode right away, I pulled off the lid.

Nothing. Zip. No boom.

Completely shocked, I stuck my face into it. "It's a whoopee cushion!" I shouted in delight. I gasped when I saw what was under it. "TWO whoopee cushions!"

"Cool," Henry commented. He was watching me with a strange look on his face. Wistful, I guess.

I lowered the cushions. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothin'. Anything else in there?"

I checked. "No… Wait, there's this." I pulled a piece of paper from the bottom. It was folded up into a little perfect square.

"What's that?" Henry asked.

"I don't know," I said stupidly. I unfolded it, turning away so Henry couldn't see.

_Connor,_

_I'm glad I can finally reach the grown-up you. I've had to wait so long. You and your brother have become such great kids, and I'm so proud of you._

_I have to keep this short, so I'll just cut to the point: I know you're the youngest and you think you're not always appreciated as much as your brother, and sometimes your mom has trouble with you, but that's not true._

_You're a fantastic son, and I wish I could be around for you. I know you don't understand why I'm not there, but that's okay. In a few years, you'll get it._

_I hope one day I can meet you, but until then, hang in there. It'll all be okay._

_I love you. _

_Signed, your dad._

I gaped at the neat script. "Dad? Henry, look! It's…" I turned, ready to show the mailman, but he was gone. I frowned. "Henry?" I called. "Henry!"

"Connor, keep it down!" my mother yelled from her window.

I shut up. I craned my neck, looking up and down the street for the strange mailman, but he was nowhere in sight. I glanced again at the box. Henry had written night shift across the top—and the writing was the same as in my dad's letter.

"Henry!" I shouted. A shoe thudded at my feet; I looked up in time to see my mother slamming her window closed. I decided that was my cue to be quiet.

The rest of the night, I curled up under my blanket in the grass with the letter clutched to my chest. I hid it from my mom and Travis in the morning, and I've never shown it to anyone since. Having it near me reminded me that my dad, whoever he was, loved me. And he chose to find me, not Travis. He chose to write to me, Connor, not Travis, all the way from New York City.

And every time Travis won my mother's approval and pushed the blame onto me, whether it was my fault or not, I'd grin, because Travis might've had our mother, but I had our dad. All to myself.

I swore to myself that if I ever saw Henry the mailman, I'd hug him really tight and tell him I forgave him for not being there. And I'd watch, every single day, waiting for the mail to come so I could see if Henry was the one bringing it.

Later, at camp, I did get it. Henry/Hermes was a god. He couldn't be godly and be my dad at the same time. Travis didn't understand. Before our brother Luke went bad, Travis used to agree with him, against Dad.

But I didn't. I'd look closely at all the mailmen I saw in New York, hoping to see Henry one more time, even though I wasn't a kid anymore and it was a stupid pastime. And Travis didn't get why and he'd laugh at me, but I didn't care.

While Travis won Katie over and left me as the goofy sidekick, or while my mom was dying of cancer in the hospital, or while I got mistaken for Travis, I'd touch the letter in my pocket and know that my dad loved me.

And besides Travis, that was the only thing that mattered.

* * *

><p><strong>Probably OOC, but I liked writing this. I've always thought of the Stoll brothers as uneven; you always hear about Travis (Travis and Katie, Travis did this, Travis was the mastermind behind that), but not Connor. I guess I thought Hermes would've noticed and this is the way he would've made it up to him.<strong>

**If it seems kind of sad and/or serious in the end, it's probably because I was listening to "Back to December" and that makes everything sound really morose, so..**

**~ Mia ~**


	5. Dare to See

**Rachel/Dare to See**

The first time I saw Percy Jackson, I was fourteen years old. Life was hard then, or so I thought. My parents misunderstood me constantly, most of my friends only hung around me for the perks of Dare affiliation, and boys were stupid.

On top of all that, I was being dragged to Hoover Dam with my parents. With a head cold.

I blew my nose in the backseat of our car, trying to block out my parents arguing about directions. My dad usually didn't drive; he normally had Harry, the chauffer, to do it for him. He had a lot of people to do a lot of things for him.

But my mom didn't want Harry on this trip. A family vacation, she called it. I had to admit I was a little impressed. My mother's mind normally revolved around fashion, magazines, and being the perfect wife to my father, not actually spending time with her family, let alone with her reject of a daughter.

"Rachel, please stop making so much noise back there," Mom sighed, like I was so unbelievable.

I tried not to sniffle as I picked at my stained jeans. Yeah, my mom didn't really like me. I was okay with that, because I didn't really like her either, but sometimes I wish we could be real.

My phone pinged. Without looking down, I hit ignore. I knew who it was. I frowned, then wiped my nose. I really had to block his number.

"Here, here!" Mom shrieked, pointing frantically. My dad slammed on the brakes, and if it weren't for our expensive safety system, I would've been thrown out the windshield. Thankfully (I guess), the seatbelt had me choked into submission, as the car company would've never allowed me to be in a car accident.

Dad swerved into the parking space, giving his traditional Dare victory grin. Both he and my mom were out of the car in a few seconds, whereas I was still trying to recover from the near-vehicular-manslaughter.

Mom rapped on the glass of my window impatiently. "Rachel, hurry up, will you? There's so much to see! And we have to get to Vegas by five o'clock!"

Rush, rush, rush. Mom was all about timing, especially when it came to my father's schedule. I hurriedly unclipped my seatbelt and slid out of the car. "Sorry, Mom," I apologized.

She only tsked and whisked me off to where I guessed the entrance was, where my dad had somehow gotten to in the past few seconds. Apologies were always wasted on my mom.

Two huge, winged statues stood flanking my father. They looked noble and menacing, and I stared up at them in wonder, but I didn't get a chance to even commit them to memory. God, what a painting that would've been!

Dad wasn't glaring at me, this time, though. He was staring down a group of teenagers standing not too far away, all laughing. I caught a bit of their conversation as my mom pulled me past:

"I do not understand," a regal-looking, dark-haired girl was stating, looking confused. Her speech sounded accented, but I couldn't place it.

"I want to use the dam water fountain!" a scraggly, pale boy said through his laughter.

"And…" A girl with spiky hair and bright blue eyes tried to breathe. "I want to buy a dam T-shirt."

The others laughed even harder. I admit it, I giggled a little bit, but one stare from my parents and I shut up.

Once inside, they immediately decided to flag down an employee and pick a fight: _"What do you mean, there's no more tours?" "Don't you know who we are?" "Look, we have a pass!" "Expired? Where's the manager? I want to talk to your boss!"_

I sighed. Poor guy. He would probably get fired, knowing my dad and his demands. I was so tired of them. I plucked at my mom's sleeve, deftly dodging her annoyed swat.

"Mom, I'm going to the bathroom," I tried to tell her, but she only waved her hand at me, nearly shouting.

"We called in advance! You people are so disorganized, I can't believe the…"

I was hurrying down the hall so fast I didn't hear the end of her sentence. Soon, my rushed steps became a slow stroll. I had escaped my mother's shrill voice, and I was going to enjoy it, at least for a second.

"Bathroom," I muttered. Might as well go, since that's what I told Mom. I spotted the little blue sign down another hallway, and made my way towards it.

Huh. It was really quiet. I guessed there would be noisy tour groups wandering around, but I didn't see any. I shrugged. I didn't really care. Quiet was good, for now.

There was a boy standing in front of the bathrooms, in a weird stance, almost like he was protecting himself. Well, there were a lot of weird people in Nevada, so I didn't think much of him.

I was just going to ease past him into the ladies' room when I felt a sneeze coming on. Prepared, I whipped a Kleenex out of my pocket and blew my nose before I could snot on myself. Bad idea.

The boy in front of me jumped and whirled around, something in his hand. A cold chill went through my chest as the _sword_ passed right through me. I yelped and skittered back, my Kleenex falling to the ground.

"Oh my god!" I yelled. Completely shocked, I stared at the boy, who looked like he shared my opinion. "Do you always kill people when they blow their nose?"

"You're mortal!" he blurted, like that was news.

I stared at him. He had to be crazy. Who would let a crazy kid into the Hoover Dam? "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I demanded. "Of course I'm mortal! How did you get that sword past security?"

He looked flustered. "I didn't…" Then he realized something. "Wait, you can see it's a sword?"

I rolled my eyes. This was typical. I'm on vacation with my parents across the country from where these weird things happen, and they just keep following me. "Well it's either a sword of the biggest toothpick in the word," I said sarcastically.

"And why didn't it hurt me?" I continued. I figured it'd be better to keep him busy, whatever he was. "I mean, not that I'm complaining," I added, eyeing the blade.

The boy's expression was troubled. He had green eyes, sort of like mine, tousled black hair like he'd been running, and tattered clothes, like he'd been in more than a couple fights. Hung over his shoulders was a golden…pelt?

Frankly, he was cute. But I didn't say that.

I gaped at him. "Who are you? And whoa, what is that you're wearing? Is that made of lion fur?"

He glanced down at it, as if to check if I was right. Evidently, I wasn't. He looked at me almost fearfully. Then he got a determined look on his face. He snapped his fingers, looking hopeful.

"You don't see a sword," he tried to tell me. "It's just a ballpoint pen."

I blinked at him. He really was crazy! "Um…no," I said, feeling a little uncomfortable (wouldn't you?). "It's a sword, weirdo."

He gave me a frustrated glare. "Who _are_ you?"

I snorted. "Rachel Elizabeth Dare," I retorted, hoping the name would scare him off. It did for most people. "Now, are you going to answer my questions or should I scream for security?" Because, believe me, I was seconds from doing that.

"No!" he almost shouted. "I mean," he floundered for words, "I'm kind of in a hurry. I'm in trouble."

I crossed my arms, pleased that he gave in. "In a hurry or in trouble?"

"Um, sort of both."

I glanced over his shoulder and almost gasped. At the end of the hallway was a group of men in gray—except they weren't men. They were bones. Skeletons. No skin, no muscle, no facial features. Just bones.

I thought I might faint, but instead my mind started racing. They looked like—since they had no eyes, you know—like they were staring at the green-eyed, sword-wielding boy before me, like they were after him.

_In trouble,_ the boy had said.

"Bathroom!" I told him.

He looked at me like I was the one that was crazy. "What?"

"Bathroom! Behind me! Now!"

He had the good sense to listen to me and disappeared inside the boys' room. I stood there and tried to seem normal. The skeletons ran towards me and skidded to a stop when they realized the boy wasn't there. They chattered weirdly, which I guess was like their version of talking.

I took a deep breath. "Oh my god!" I said, grabbing their attention. "Did you see that kid?" They all looked at each other, like, Kid? "It's about time you got here!" I said, like I was scolding them. "He tried to kill me! He had a sword, for God's sake. You security guys let a sword-swinging lunatic inside a national landmark? I mean, jeez! He ran that way toward those turbine thingies." I pointed. "I think he went over the side or something. Maybe he fell," I suggested.

They turned to each other and being chattering over my report. They ran off. I whirled around and shoved open the door, revealing the green-eyed boy, holding his sword like he was ready to fight.

"All clear," I told him, wishing he'd put the sword away. "But you'd better hurry." I glanced back. The skeletons were inspecting the turbines excitedly.

The boy peered around me, then relaxed. He looked at me gratefully. "I owe you one, Rachel Elizabeth Dare," he said, with sort of a smile.

"What are those things?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I was crazy or not. "They looked like—"

"Skeletons?" he asked. I managed a nod. He thought for a second, trying to make a decision. "Do yourself a favor," he said finally. "Forget it. Forget you ever saw me."

I tilted my head. "Forget you tried to kill me?" I asked, amused.

He wasn't paying much attention to me. "Yeah, that, too."

"But who are you?"

"Percy—Gotta go!"

I blinked. "What kind of name is Percy Gotta-go?" I asked, but he bolted for the exit before I could finish.

I sighed. The first marginally cute (and slightly insane) boy within the span of a country, and he ran. Oh well.

"Rachel!" I turned to find my mother running up to me.

"Hi, Mom."

"Where did you go?" she demanded.

"To the bathroom, like I said," I reminded her, pointing at the sign. She pursed her lips at me.

She sighed. "Don't disappear like that, okay?"

I blinked at her. It was one of the few times she'd shown some actual care for me. I smiled, then picked up my Kleenex. "If you say so, Mom."

As we started walking, yelling and screaming echoed towards us. Mom peered towards the sound. "What on earth is going on?" she wondered.

Through the panoramic windows of the dam café, I saw the people inside having some kind of food fight. I saw skeleton men charging towards the same point—and I watched as the same five teenagers my dad had been so annoyed at, including the green-eyed boy, Percy, darted outside.

Then I smiled at my mother again, and told her what I always told her whenever something remotely strange happened.

"Nothing, Mom. Let's go find Dad."

Little did I know, that green-eyed boy would change my life forever.


End file.
